Well, he has to go to sleep early - he has to work tomorrow. I on the other hand am contemplating evading the mommies and other curious folk at the preschool and staying at home to sweep the room and put away 3 weeks worth of laundry (if I'm not sidetracked by Guitar Hero).
Tonight, while having dinner with friends, he constantly had his arm around me. He would rub my shoulder or hold me close. Without words he lets me know: I am here for you. Let me know when this gets to be too much.
He is trying to protect me from the pain I might feel from awkwardly posed statements or too-probing questions.
And this is why he is the love of my life. This big bear of a man. Quiet, shy, and of few words --- no one could be more different from me. But no one could understand me more.
He has not shaved for almost 3 weeks. It freaks people out. Most of them think its a "new look" that he's trying to cultivate. But he stopped shaving when Ines passed away. This is how he expresses his grief. He doesn't cry. He doesn't write long blog posts. He doesn't search the internet for local support groups or contemplates putting up his own.
He wakes up at odd hours in the night. He searches for poetry on the net about grief and loss. He edits the handful of photos we have of her. And he doesn't shave. He said once that it feels so strange to have our lives change so much and have everything still the same.
So perhaps the beard is a mark. His quiet way of saying: Something happened to me. My life is no longer the same. So I don't look the same. See Ines, you are not forgotten.
As scratchy as it is, I gently kiss his bearded cheek.
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